Wednesday, October 23, 2019

Before I left for yoga, I stupidly downloaded an update on my phone. When I came out of yoga, my phone was locked on the update, asking me to sign on to my WIFI.  Only one problem, I wasn't home and couldn't. I had a telephone appointment with my therapist at ten and was concerned that I wouldn't have access to my phone.  I raced out of Bikram to get to the T-Mobile store.  It would only open at 10; it was 9:15 now, and my appointment was at 10. I drove home. On the way, my phone rang. The chiropractor's office reminded me that I had an appointment at 1.  The call reassured me that I would be able to receive a call at 10 am. 

I quickly took a shower and played with the phone.  I remembered the password, the update was completed, and I regained control of my phone.  After the shower, I did MELT, as I had been doing religiously.  That trick of scheduling MELT after my daily shower is working beautifully. 

I heard Yvette pull into the driveway; I knew JJ would be right behind because they were going to have a private yoga session in Yvette's newly renovated yoga room.  He taught the class today and commented about a 96-year-old Bikram yoga teacher who had no loosey- goosies on her upper arm.  I walked out to ask him about it.  Of course, he had exaggerated. He meant her biceps didn't hang down like shopping bags. He said if I worked on strengthening my triceps, that would reduce my hanging stuff even more.  

Later in the day, I brought up the subject with Yvette. I made a muscle.  She lightly touched the bottom of the upper arm. I told her that's all loose skin by this age; you must squeeze deeper into the arm to feel the biceps contracted. Mine is pretty hard. I still have three inches of loose flesh that hang below it.  I had such nice arms when I was younger. 

In my session with the therapist, I worked on not feeling entitled to stand up for my point of view. My conversations with my mother would go like this: She would express a point of view; I would say something like, "Gee, I don't agree with that." She would then tell me that everyone thought as she did or no one thought as I did, to which I would say, "I do." She would then say, "You're nobody. You're nobody." It was a predictable script. You would think I would have learned not to engage and provoke her to say those words. But no. I never got to be that clever.  I finally did stop her when I was thirty when I yelled into the phone, "I am somebody. I am somebody." At any rate,  while I'm well known for expressing my point of view, standing up for it doesn't come without stress.

I did my usual release. "I release anything negative about this feeling (my instinct to fight with desperation) and keep anything positive or anything else I still need." There was some release with this statement.  Then, I reversed it as I always do. "I release anything negative about my love for this feeling and keep anything positive or anything I still need." That changed everything. I do indeed love that feeling.  It makes me a hero of my own story.  I have to stand up against great forces putting myself in danger. How brave am I?  I now think the problem is that I haven't accurately evaluated the threat I'm facing.  Nor do I want to. If there is no real threat, there goes my heroic self-image. Do I want to spend my life as Don Quixote or in touch with reality?

When I calmed down, the image of my mother as a terrified woman came to mind. I saw her as she was.  I knew I wouldn't calm her by approaching her; it would make her more frightened.  I stayed at a distance and prayed for her.  I knew it would be impossible to convince her that I had seen her accurately for a long time and still loved her. 

I then saw a translucent band in front of me, slightly above my eyes.  The right side of the band was straight; the left side was warped.  I had two interpretations.  A translucent band my parents passed on to me determined my perspective on viewing the world.  Every parent passes on their perspective to their children. Hopefully, the one they pass on will serve their children well.  The one on the right side was clear and straight; I assume it continues to serve me well.  But the one on the left, considered the feminine side, the one my mother gave me, was bent and distorted, creating astigmatism. As I made that observation, the rod straightened the left side, bent downward, and finally folded in half on the right side of my vision. On the left side, I was now free from my parents' perspective on life.  I was looking at life directly.  I don't know the long-term effect of this, I suppose you could call the mental experience a waking dream, but I do know I was much calmer.

I had plans to go to school from 11:30 to 12:30 and then go to the chiropractor. Instead, I lay down on the couch and read.  I needed some rest.  I left the house at 12:30 for my 1 pm appointment. When I got there, no one was in the office at all.  A gentleman came in looking to make an appointment. Finally, a few minutes after 1 pm, Dr. Nancy came out of one of the rooms with her lunch pail.  The gentleman was a visitor from France who would be here for two months.  No appointments were available because the other doctor in the practice would be out until mid-November due to an injury.  The chiropractor worked on my QL, psoas, glutes, and neck for my session. She's different from Dr. Kim.  I like the change. 

I went straight to Lowe's after I was finished at the chiropractor's. I'm starting on a major house project.  I want to insulate the floor from my side acoustically and the ceiling from Yvette's side so they are no longer bothered by people walking around up here.  I have wanted to do this since we bought the house, but it got put off.  I was the only one who seemed to care. Yvette said she didn't mind, even enjoyed, hearing Mike and me move around upstairs, and didn't mind when we had guests. Then Kathrin lived here for several months.  The picture changed radically. 

Now, I'm involved with a major project without Mike's support. I would have been doing all the work I'm doing now, but it wouldn't all have been my responsibility. We would have talked about it, and he would have comforted me as I dealt with people I found challenging and as the best-laid plans failed. 

So far, I have heard three different descriptions of the problem and several suggestions for fixing it.  Now, we have Pergo panels on top of a subfloor.  There is a possibility that nothing was put down between the subflooring and the panels.  Several spots on the floor loudly creak when stepped on. Is the problem the way the boards rub against each other, the way the panels rub against the subfloor or is the problem because of loose subflooring that isn't securely nailed down?     

One person says to number the panels as they are removed so they can be laid back down. Two other people say, forget that; they're garbage after you take them up.  The grooves are fragile and break when taken apart.  I have seen them now at the store.  The edge of a track broke off in the salesman's hand as he showed it to me. Fragile isn't the word for it. No, they will not be laid down again.

I have decided to go with carpeting, but I don't want a deep pile. The house is open to the outside. After a year, I will be able to plant vegetables at the base of the pile.  I was looking at thick, thick, thick underpadding and tightly woven carpeting, one step up from indoor/outdoor carpeting.  

While I was talking to the flooring clerk at Lowe's, another man joined our conversation. He's a member, the head, of the flooring union.  He took my number and said he would ask if someone in the union who doesn't have a job would like to call me and give me advice.  

When I finally got home, I saw the trash bin sitting at the curb.  Ah, I finally realized that yesterday was Tuesday, not Wednesday, our trash pick-up day. I was confused yesterday because there was a huge cruise ship anchored in Kona Bay. Wednesday is the cruise ship day. I realized that we are going to see more shiWednesday, October 23, 2019

Before I left for yoga, I stupidly downloaded an update on my phone. When I came out of yoga, my phone was locked on the update, asking me to sign on to my WIFI.  Only one problem, I wasn't home and couldn't. I had a telephone appointment with my therapist at ten and was concerned that I wouldn't have access to my phone.  I raced out of Bikram to get to the T-Mobile store.  It would only open at 10; it was 9:15 now, and my appointment was at 10. I drove home. On the way, my phone rang. The chiropractor's office reminded me that I had an appointment at 1.  The call reassured me that I would be able to receive a call at 10 am. 

I quickly took a shower and played with the phone.  I remembered the password, the update was completed, and I regained control of my phone.  After the shower, I did MELT, as I had been doing religiously.  That trick of scheduling MELT after my daily shower is working beautifully. 

I heard Yvette pull into the driveway; I knew JJ would be right behind because they were going to have a private yoga session in Yvette's newly renovated yoga room.  He taught the class today and commented about a 96-year-old Bikram yoga teacher who had no loosey- goosies on her upper arm.  I walked out to ask him about it.  Of course, he had exaggerated. He meant her biceps didn't hang down like shopping bags. He said if I worked on strengthening my triceps, that would reduce my hanging stuff even more.  

Later in the day, I brought up the subject with Yvette. I made a muscle.  She lightly touched the bottom of the upper arm. I told her that's all loose skin by this age; you must squeeze deeper into the arm to feel the biceps contracted. Mine is pretty hard. I still have three inches of loose flesh that hang below it.  I had such nice arms when I was younger. 

In my session with the therapist, I worked on not feeling entitled to stand up for my point of view. My conversations with my mother would go like this: She would express a point of view; I would say something like, "Gee, I don't agree with that." She would then tell me that everyone thought as she did or no one thought as I did, to which I would say, "I do." She would then say, "You're nobody. You're nobody." It was a predictable script. You would think I would have learned not to engage and provoke her to say those words. But no. I never got to be that clever.  I finally did stop her when I was thirty when I yelled into the phone, "I am somebody. I am somebody." At any rate,  while I'm well known for expressing my point of view, standing up for it doesn't come without stress.

I did my usual release. "I release anything negative about this feeling (my instinct to fight with desperation) and keep anything positive or anything else I still need." There was some release with this statement.  Then, I reversed it as I always do. "I release anything negative about my love for this feeling and keep anything positive or anything I still need." That changed everything. I do indeed love that feeling.  It makes me a hero of my own story.  I have to stand up against great forces putting myself in danger. How brave am I?  I now think the problem is that I haven't accurately evaluated the threat I'm facing.  Nor do I want to. If there is no real threat, there goes my heroic self-image. Do I want to spend my life as Don Quixote or in touch with reality?

When I calmed down, the image of my mother as a terrified woman came to mind. I saw her as she was.  I knew I wouldn't calm her by approaching her; it would make her more frightened.  I stayed at a distance and prayed for her.  I knew it would be impossible to convince her that I had seen her accurately for a long time and still loved her. 

I then saw a translucent band in front of me, slightly above my eyes.  The right side of the band was straight; the left side was warped.  I had two interpretations.  A translucent band my parents passed on to me determined my perspective on viewing the world.  Every parent passes on their perspective to their children. Hopefully, the one they pass on will serve their children well.  The one on the right side was clear and straight; I assume it continues to serve me well.  But the one on the left, considered the feminine side, the one my mother gave me, was bent and distorted, creating astigmatism. As I made that observation, the rod straightened the left side, bent downward, and finally folded in half on the right side of my vision. On the left side, I was now free from my parents' perspective on life.  I was looking at life directly.  I don't know the long-term effect of this, I suppose you could call the mental experience a waking dream, but I do know I was much calmer.

I had plans to go to school from 11:30 to 12:30 and then go to the chiropractor. Instead, I lay down on the couch and read.  I needed some rest.  I left the house at 12:30 for my 1 pm appointment. When I got there, no one was in the office at all.  A gentleman came in looking to make an appointment. Finally, a few minutes after 1 pm, Dr. Nancy came out of one of the rooms with her lunch pail.  The gentleman was a visitor from France who would be here for two months.  No appointments were available because the other doctor in the practice would be out until mid-November due to an injury.  The chiropractor worked on my QL, psoas, glutes, and neck for my session. She's different from Dr. Kim.  I like the change. 

I went straight to Lowe's after I was finished at the chiropractor's. I'm starting on a major house project.  I want to insulate the floor from my side acoustically and the ceiling from Yvette's side so they are no longer bothered by people walking around up here.  I have wanted to do this since we bought the house, but it got put off.  I was the only one who seemed to care. Yvette said she didn't mind, even enjoyed, hearing Mike and me move around upstairs, and didn't mind when we had guests. Then Kathrin lived here for several months.  The picture changed radically. 

Now, I'm involved with a major project without Mike's support. I would have been doing all the work I'm doing now, but it wouldn't all have been my responsibility. We would have talked about it, and he would have comforted me as I dealt with people I found challenging and as the best-laid plans failed. 

So far, I have heard three different descriptions of the problem and several suggestions for fixing it.  Now, we have Pergo panels on top of a subfloor.  There is a possibility that nothing was put down between the subflooring and the panels.  Several spots on the floor loudly creak when stepped on. Is the problem the way the boards rub against each other, the way the panels rub against the subfloor or is the problem because of loose subflooring that isn't securely nailed down?     

One person says to number the panels as they are removed so they can be laid back down. Two other people say, forget that; they're garbage after you take them up.  The grooves are fragile and break when taken apart.  I have seen them now at the store.  The edge of a track broke off in the salesman's hand as he showed it to me. Fragile isn't the word for it. No, they will not be laid down again.

I have decided to go with carpeting, but I don't want a deep pile. The house is open to the outside. After a year, I will be able to plant vegetables at the base of the pile.  I was looking at thick, thick, thick underpadding and tightly woven carpeting, one step up from indoor/outdoor carpeting.  

While I was talking to the flooring clerk at Lowe's, another man joined our conversation. He's a member, the head, of the flooring union.  He took my number and said he would ask if someone in the union who doesn't have a job would like to call me and give me advice.  

When I finally got home, I saw the trash bin sitting at the curb.  Ah, I finally realized that yesterday was Tuesday, not Wednesday, our trash pick-up day. I was confused yesterday because there was a huge cruise ship anchored in Kona Bay. Wednesday is the cruise ship day. I realized that we are going to see more ships for a while.  Twice a year, the cruise ships migrate: in the spring, they migrate north to cover the Alaska cruises, and then in the fall, they migrate south to go, I don't know where.  They stop over here in Kona on their way. 

I went down to the bottom of the property to get limes with Elsa. This is the first time she has been down there since Scott put up the sun sheet on the fence to block her view of the next-door neighbor's dogs. Whenever she sees them, she barks ferociously.  It worked beautifully.

As I was leaving, I called for Elsa to come. No response. I thought she might be in Yvette's house eating dog food or cat food belonging to her animals.  I went into her place looking for her and was surprised to find Yvette there. Her car was gone when I went down to pick the limes.  As it turned out, Elsa ran into the house after me. Yvette and I walked up together. She brought boxes for shipping books up to join my collection. Soon, the number of boxes I have will outnumber the books I have to ship.

I alphabetized four shelves today but found no books. Then, I looked over the sheets with the lists of requested books. Yes, one name sounded familiar. I had seen that author's name tonight. I went to look but couldn't find it. 

As I was leaving the room, my eye spied the largest centipede I had ever seen. This guy must have been seven inches long and a ¼ inch round.  I usually step on them.  I want evidence of body parts before I pick up my foot.  If I release them too early, they can turn on me.  These big ones only deliver the equivalent of a bee sting. It's the little ones with the blue stripes that can do damage, and even that is only discomfort, not disfigurement or death.  I watched that big baby slip into a crack in the molding.  I guess there's a nest in the wall.  Well, they'll all be dead and gone on November 6, along with the termites, when I have the house tented and sprayed.  

  Twice a year, the cruise ships migrate. In the spring, they migrate north to cover the Alaska cruises, and then in the fall, they migrate south to go, I don't know where.  They stop over here in Kona on their way. 

I went down to the bottom of the property to get limes with Elsa. This is the first time she has been down there since Scott put up the sun sheet on the fence to block her view of the next-door neighbor's dogs. Whenever she sees them, she barks ferociously.  It worked beautifully.

As I was leaving, I called for Elsa to come. No response. I thought she might be in Yvette's house eating dog food or cat food belonging to her animals.  I went into her place looking for her and was surprised to find Yvette there. Her car was gone when I went down to pick the limes.  As it turned out, Elsa ran into the house after me. Yvette and I walked up together. She brought boxes for shipping books up to join my collection. Soon, the number of boxes I have will outnumber the books I have to ship.

I alphabetized four shelves today but found no books. Then, I looked over the sheets with the lists of requested books. Yes, one name sounded familiar. I had seen that author's name tonight. I went to look but couldn't find it. 

As I was leaving the room, my eye spied the largest centipede I had ever seen. This guy must have been seven inches long and a ¼ inch round.  I usually step on them.  I want evidence of body parts before I pick up my foot.  If I release them too early, they can turn on me.  These big ones only deliver the equivalent of a bee sting. It's the little ones with the blue stripes that can do damage, and even that is only discomfort, not disfigurement or death.  I watched that big baby slip into a crack in the molding.  I guess there's a nest in the wall.  Well, they'll all be dead and gone on November 6, along with the termites, when I have the house tented and sprayed.